18. MIXED BLESSINGS

From the Alzheimer’s Diary 

How your mother died, or said she might, 
The day she learned you were a lesbian—
You’d hoped as you’d been hoping all your 30-something years,
She wouldn’t see it as a failure of her parenting,
That she could hold you steady as you stumbled over new terrain.

Now, you sit with her and pray that death will take her soon. You remember you upended life
When women lost their kids in ugly battles over custody.
Could you have taken comfort that your mother hadn't changed? 

Today, this hollow woman, empty of her memories 

Doesn’t know your name or give a damn about your sexuality.

17. THE HOSPICE NURSE INSTRUCTS

The body, when it’s finished,
Knows exactly what to do, and
Will do it with efficiency and grace
If you have the grit and guts to let it.
It knows it doesn’t need to eat or drink.
Even when the mind no longer
Understands, the body’s wisdom
Stays intact and goes about its business.
It simply won’t be thirsty anymore
And will no longer let you give it water.

You’re relieved that you won’t have to
Wonder if you’re forcing fluids
Down your mother’s throat because
She simply will not drink when that day comes.
As you protect her wishes and avoid the thoughts
That seek to make some sense of why it is
You cannot help her in the way she wished for
When she still could speak about such things, you
Remember that the day will come when you will 

Understand the grace in how your mother died.

16. THE PRACTICE or EVERYDAY ZEN 3

All there is:
The cushion,
The breath,
The body.
Returning thoughts
To their rightful status: 
The mouth waters,
The gut farts, 

The brain thinks.
There is no
Primacy here
Only
The cushion,
The breath,
The body.

15. EVERYDAY ZEN 2

Out to dinner with a friend,
You notice that your heart’s not broken:
Sushi, the simple beauty of the
Ginger pile, wasabi mound, the
Little dish for dipping. And
Companionship: its
Warm embrace, the
Depth of conversation,
Topics ranging from
What bike to buy to
Sitting meditation and to
How the kids are doing.
This moment, when you notice
That this is all there is.


*******************************

Note to the Reader: For those of you who wondered, here's 

"Everyday Zen 1," written a few months back.

Trust me when 

I tell you that
Today’s the day
That everyone will
Wake up sane, when
All the problems
Of the world will
Disappear and
Peace will come to
Heal the planet.
    Writing this poem,
     I stop the war. 

14. YOUR MOTHER'S KEEPER

From the Alzheimer’s Diary

Because it wasn’t ever really what you cared to do,
you do it badly. You see to all the paperwork,
prescriptions, petty cash for laundry and
the odds and ends that keep things running.
Her aides see to her body’s needs, but 

no one's in your mother’s house to
sit with her and love her, to feed her heart
which keeps on beating, feeling, knowing that

it’s lonely. You wish you were the kind of daughter
who could care for her because she'd taught you how.  

Instead, you pass her building every day, in disbelief
you are still wounded by the ways she failed you,

clenching teeth to try and stop the tears, 

you go to dinner with a friend, as if your heart’s not broken.

13. DO-OVER

You never even knew you’d made the grade.
The handbook you were given at your birth
Made clear that times you get it wrong
Would cancel out the times you get it right.
You make your way through childhood’s bootcamp,
Oftentimes confused when what they tell you
Doesn’t measure up to how things feel. 
And now, as you re-write the stories of your life,
You realize you never knew you’d made the grade 

Because it wasn't ever really what you cared to do.

12. HEART'S DESIRE

These waking heart-dreams, things the body knows
That mind would like to highjack, add a storyline,
Encase inside of concrete boots, weigh down with certainties,
And truths about the meta-message.
What they really want is freedom, riding up-drafts.
Following the currents of the winds and tides,
Till they find their own way back as dreams made manifest,
Wishes that you never even knew you'd made.